Bitter Love
by Wyvern's Elucidated Brethren
Summary: His lover is always so cold and distant, it hurts to be with him. He wants to finish with him, but he can't. He needs him... slash.


Lan: This is our last post for a week because we're off on holiday.   
Bel: We felt guilty leaving without posting anything, and so we offer you... this!   
Wyv: This fic was inspired by the song 'Worry Rock' by the fabulous Green Day. Green Day own the lyrics. JK owns everything Harry Potter.   
  
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"Another sentimental argument and bitter love  
Fucked without a kiss again and dragged it through the mud"  
Green Day, 'Worry Rock', 1997, Nimrod.   
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I stand in the shadows of an empty classroom looking out of the window, waiting for my lover. He's always late. He does this to torment me, he makes me think he's not coming and I hope desperately that he does because I need him. And he knows that I need him. So he's deliberately late.   
  
The stars remind me of him a bit. Absolutely beautiful to look at, but so cold and distant. I wonder if he's capable of feeling anything. I wonder if he feels anything for me. It would be nice to know if the love I feel for him is requited, even just a little. I wonder if he feels anything at all for anyone.  
  
He's even later than usual tonight. I think seriously of leaving, but I can't. I need to see him, even though it's like this. But then I can't go on like this. As much as it hurts to do so, I realise I'm going to have to break it off with him. It's not fair, the way he keeps treating me. I tear my gaze away from the stars and pace the room, trying to figure out what to say.   
  
He turns up half an hour later, looking nothing less than his usual, gorgeous, unruffled self.   
"You're late," I find myself saying. He says nothing, just smirks at me. I look away. He's just too beautiful. I know I'm going to cry.  
  
"Don't look at me like that. I - I can't see you any more." Better to go straight to the point, I thought, instead of delaying the pain. He just laughs at me.   
"You're finishing with me? I don't think so!" I forced myself to look at him, even though it hurts me so much.   
"I mean it. I'm finishing with you. I - I can't keep doing this." He folds his arms and leans on one of the desks. He's smiling, a cold, humourless smile. "Don't look at me like that! It's not fair!" I yell. He still says nothing, still smiling that awful smile that doesn't suit him at all. Then he stands up straight and lets his robe fall.   
  
He's so beautiful, standing there, naked, in the moonlight. He moves closer to me. I shut my eyes and try to block out the tantalising sight before me, but he whispers in my ear.   
"You can't finish with me, because you can't exist without me." And I know that he's right. Then he tears my robes off me.  
  
"Why do you do this to me?" I whisper. There's no reply. I didn't expect there to be.  
  
And we fuck.  
  
It sounds coarse, I know, but that's all it is to him. A casual fuck. There's no emotion in it at all, at least, not from him. He knows that I love him and he's abusing that knowledge. And I can't let go because, if we didn't have these secret trysts, it would destroy me. It's the only time we can be together, and I can't help loving him. I sometimes wish I didn't, but you can't help who you fall in love with... can you?   
  
All too soon it's over. He gets up, gets dressed and leaves, leaving me lying there on the desk. Fucked without a kiss again. No kisses, no hugs, no declaring our love for each other as we lay wrapped in each other's arms afterwards. And it hurts.   
  
And not for the first time I wonder what it would be like to be one of the normal couples of the school, walking around together, holding hands, little kisses when you think no-one's looking. That couldn't happen anyway, as we've been enemies since our first meeting, but there's no emotion even in private. He's the same every time, cold, distant, and his apathy burns me like fire. Just like the stars.   
  
And not for the first time Draco Malfoy is reduced to tears in the moonlight, pining after the Boy Who Lived.   



End file.
